


To Bring You My Love

by coloursflyaway



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU PROMPT: Chris and Tom are actually the reincarnations of Thor and Loki, respectively. Bonus points for flashbacks. DBP if the films still exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Bring You My Love

When Tom closes his eyes, he can still remember how it was to be Thor, even if it was for not much more than a few days, weeks, and an audition. It had been a strange kind of thrill, both frightening and exhilarating which constantly had him on the edge, a rush of power every time he had looked into the mirror and tried to imagine himself with a winged helmet, shining armour and a heavy, red cape weighing down his shoulder. Almost familiar and still strange, as if a part of him remembered something so close to this and yet not quite the same.

 

But what Tom remembers even better is how much he wanted this role, how he had craved it with every bit of his body, his mind, as if being Thor, even if only as pretence and acting had been what he had always longed for, even before he had known about the character’s existence. And yet, he hadn’t liked him, the man behind that cape he needed to wear so very badly, maybe because liking was too positive and at the same time, because liking wasn’t strong enough yet. He’d never experienced anything like it, not even close to it, because no matter how much time he had spent thinking about a character, he never had had feelings this strong, or this deep before, and while it made it so much easier to slip into the role, it was beyond frightening.

He had gained weight and muscles before the final audition which had always looked wrong on his slender frame, had allowed his hair to grow out (it had always been trying to do just that, ever since he could imagine) and even though he never was able to completely shake off the uneasiness which came with the strong words and loud voice required, the bold- and the braveness, when he had left the room, he had felt their stares on his back, their awe. And he had smirked, something he hardly did, his mind light and cheery and maybe a little smug, as if he had just deceived them all.

It was a strange state, but even so, it didn’t last more than a few second, because there was a name being called and the man responding rose, walked over and suddenly, Tom felt as if his lungs had never been able to hold enough air to satisfy him.  
He’d never seen the other, but still there was a strange sense of familiarity surrounding him, a shadow which seemed to follow but never quite reach. A memory which Tom could not quite grasp and which was undeniably bound to the figure in front of him, this golden, sculpted man who looked and smelt and felt like the god of thunder himself. And there was a hint of the same thought behind the other’s eyes, or at least that was what Tom thought when they both stilled for a moment, as if he himself was bearing a memory in his shadow as well which only the man in front of him could see. It was but a fleeting moment before the world set in, but it felt like the rest of his life reduced into a single second. As if he’d died and had been born again, had watched the whole universe fall apart and be built again countless times and seen the other do the same thing, and as he finally found the strength to move again, everything had changed.

It was no surprise that when Kenneth called, it was to tell him that they’d given the role to someone else (Chris, he repeated to himself, because he had asked the woman behind the counter at the audition for the other’s name, Chris, Chris, Chris. It sounded wrong, but it was all he had. Chris.), but instead of saying sorry and hanging up, Ken paused. They had another role, Kenneth said, an important one, and he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it immediately, because it seemed so clear now that Chris had suggested it…. Because there was another god, a trickster, a foe, a brother, and Tom would fit it perfectly. Would Tom maybe consider being Loki?

How he had managed to say yes, and ask for both time and date of the next audition, Tom didn’t know, because his head was swimming, thoughts rushing through it at a breath-taking speed and with a just as breath-taking importance. It seemed right, all of this, and he couldn’t say why, couldn’t say how, only knew that although he still wanted to be Thor, wanted to be golden and loved and looked up to, it wasn’t was he was meant to be. He wanted, but it did not matter, because if not golden and loved, he’d be dark and fearsome, a shadow to follow Thor’s light and a spear to cross the other’s hammer. He’d be the worst he could be, and he’d be better at it than Thor could ever be good.  
And he had put down the phone, turned around and went to the bathroom to cut off his blond locks again, with harsh, determined movements.

While it usually took some time to remember Thor, remembering Loki was no problem at all, because while Thor had felt like an act to play, Loki felt as if he was playing him. Character bleed, others might have called it, but it was more than that, because with his hair shorter and dyed black, his skin already pale again it didn’t take more than five minutes into the audition for him to lose himself in the role. And while Thor had been a rush and a thrill, this was balancing at the brink of sanity, moving at speeds too vast to imagine, seeing not only black and white but every shade in between. He was chaos and life and death, love and hate and despair, he was clever and ruthless, pained and vain at the same time and it was glorious.  
This time, he was out of breath when he had ended his monologue, wild-eyed and smirking at the stunned expression in all these damned mortal’s faces… Only to stop, look up and catch Kenneth’s eyes and somehow find back to reality. The stunned look did not disappear, but the men and women on the other side of the table relaxed slightly, and Tom knew, with absolute, complete certainty, that he had the role. There was no other way, because this, this was him.

The next months passed in what felt like a moment, all studying lines and getting costumes fitted, speaking with Kenneth and trying to keep the smirk off his face which seemed to appear at the strangest times, as if he had kept it inside too long to fight it now. But all the while, he still couldn’t forget Chris, whose name had become a mantra and a riddle he couldn’t quite solve.  
It was easy to say what made the other so special, but harder to say what made him so special to Tom, especially when they finally met again, staring at each other motionlessly on two sides of the same room, shocked into stillness and he wanted to both hurt and hug Chris.  
Maybe it was this, the strangeness of the feelings he had for the other actor, or just the sheer intensity of them (for Tom felt torn in two by the mere mention of Chris’ name, his picture in a trailer or even only a fleeting thought) which stopped him from seeking the Australian out immediately. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the other nonetheless and could feel Chris’ stare in return, and knew that both of them weren’t listening to a word Kenneth said. Instead Tom could feel the beat of his heart in his ear, the breaths he took and almost, it seemed, almost he could hear Chris’ as well.

If there were words exchanged between them, Tom could not remember them, most likely because he was still blown away by this, all of this, and because no small talk could ever be significant enough to keep his attention from feeling for long. For around Chris, everything seemed sharper, brighter, as if someone had ripped away the layers dimming the world around them to show them something more.  
And nothing happened for so long, not even when they finally arrived on the set, no talk or touch, nothing but glances; both of them trying to figure out what was happening. In some, strange way, it felt as if everything which needed to be said between them had been spoken aloud already, as if they, even though there was no talk, no contact, already knew each other inside out.  
It seemed to be true as well, for without thinking Tom knew how the other drank his coffee (black and strong and far too sweet) or just when to look up and find Chris’ eyes on him, when to expect a touch when they were shooting, when a smile. Still, it was all there was, and maybe it was good like this, maybe better than actual talking because as long as Tom could still at least try and convince himself that it was his imagination and nothing more, everything could just go on, without interruption. He could go back to his trailer after a day of shooting which had had his mind frayed and his muscles sore, lean back against the cold tiles of his shower and lose himself in the pleasure his own hand brought with it. To get rid of the tension, he told himself, but in reality more often than not, he was even more on the edge when he had come with a shudder and sometimes, a groan. For just before he could feel the heat pooling his stomach explode and make his mind go blissfully blank, he often saw a face, a chest, a pair of lips which looked so familiar (just like everything about Chris did by now, every twitch and every blink) and yet like a memory from far away. Sometimes even a smell, of cackling electricity and dried blood, making Tom wonder if it wasn’t this he wanted, these glimpses of a past he could not remember and not physical satisfaction.

It couldn’t last, of course it couldn’t, since something like this inevitably had to collapse, explode, implode, reach a climax or maybe even an end.  
And Kenneth sent them to Jotunheim, to fight and talk and offend and Tom allowed Loki’s eyes to linger on his brother a little longer than usual, stood closer to him than he had dared until now.. and Chris, or Thor, or whoever he was, turned. Know your place, brother.  
And Tom, or Loki, or both of them were lost for a second, sent to Valhalla and then down to Hel before returning to reality, but while Loki was seething, Tom was craving.

How they had managed to hold out until someone finally, mercifully decided to call it a day, Tom didn’t know, but at that time he was breath- and mindless with need, and Chris’ hands were shaking, knuckles white around Mjölnir’s handle. He had been unable to keep his eyes off the other, because for once, it was completely clear that whatever this was, it was affecting both of them in the same way, with the same strength. A pull, maybe it was the best way to put it, forcing them closer and closer while the same force seemed to be intent on keeping them as far apart as possible; repulsion and attraction mixed in the strangest way Tom could imagine.  
Kenneth was thanking them but nothing mattered because suddenly Chris hand was around his wrist, warm and strong, staying still for a second before pulling and giving Tom no other chance but to follow.  
They didn’t get far, stumbling and half-falling to and into the next trailer, blocking the door with their bodies when Chris pressed him against it with silent urgency, breathing heavily and shaking, the blue of his eyes almost vanished.

One of them had to have leant in, because within a second, their lips were meshed together in the most desperate, most violent and wonderful kiss Tom could imagine, nipping and sucking and tasting as the world melted around them. It was fighting and making up at once, Tom’s teeth drawing blood only to sooth the sting a moment later, Chris’ tongue demanding submission while swearing allegiance at the same time.

How they knew about the belts and buckles on the other’s armour was a mystery and would stay that, but Tom’s fingers found the right places without a second’s hesitation, pulling and tearing at the leather and metal until he could finally touch warm skin, stroking, teasing, scratching and marking while he could feel the callouses of Chris’ fingertips against his own flesh whenever the other managed to free him of one piece of armour. Always so clumsy… a voice in his head chided in, but even if Tom usually had worried about it, there was no time for that.  
Chris seemed to be everywhere at once, sliding a leg between his, baring more and more skin to touch, kissing his lips, his jaw, his neck and leaving a myriad of marks along the way which would have Tom scrambling for an explanation later.

There were words, names falling from the other’s lips and disappearing in Tom’s hair, the crook of his neck, his mouth and it took too long to understand them. Some of them seemed to be nothing more than curses, prayers, pleas, most of them the mutter, chant, whisper of his name, but sometimes, woven between those syllables, there was the word brother, uttered with a feeling behind it that let all terms of endearment ever said to him pale in comparison. If possible, Tom’s kisses grew even deeper, more desperate and intense, as if he wanted to make up for all the years he had missed, as if a single breath spent on something else but rediscovering this man’s body was a wasted one.  
His hands found the hem of Chris’ pants, tugging at them furiously, not as much fuelled by lust than by the sheer need of more contact between them, even though he could feel his cock hard and weeping against the fabric of his own costume. And somewhere between a kiss placed on the corner of Chris’ mouth and a sharp nip where his collarbone seemed to almost push through the tanned skin, he managed, sighing in relief as he could reach around and cup the other’s arse, let his hands skim over the flat planes of Chris’ back, up the curve of his spine.

Meanwhile, the other’s hands had, just as eagerly, found the remaining parts of Tom’s costume, tugging and tearing, but not succeeding to rid him of them until Tom forced his fingers to leave warm skin and instead go back to rough cloth.  
Oaf, he could hear himself mutter, Chris chuckling before the sound turned into a groan when Tom pressed forwards and trapped the other’s swollen cock between his thigh and Chris’ stomach.  
Getting his own pants off was a matter of a few, eternally lasting seconds, not even letting them fall down before he wrapped his hands around Chris’ waist again, forcing him closer.  
And by the Norns, it was heaven, their chests pressed together so tightly Tom could feel his lover’s heartbeat, their cocks sliding alongside each other as Chris thrust his hips shallowly, drawing a hiss and a moan from both of them.  
It was not love, it was desperation when Tom rocked his hips, when he dug his fingernails deep into Chris’ back and marked him as his and his alone, or at least that is what he tried to tell himself. The voice in his head agreed and made him bury his teeth in the other’s neck, but place a kiss on the bruise only a moment afterwards.

If there had been grace in their movements before, it was gone now, for grace required control and if there had been one thing Tom had lost the second he had heard the door behind them close, had felt Chris’ breath against his cheek, it was control. And he didn’t need it, not really, because Chris was warmer than should have been possible (or was it his skin which was cooler?), leaving trails of molten pleasure as he slid his hands up Tom’s sides before he pulled him closer still, pushed his leg upwards to leave him mewling. How this could be so good when it was so mad, so rushed, Tom didn’t know, but each motion of Chris’ lips set his body further on fire, the head of the other’s cock slick against his own skin.

By now, their motions were frenzied and mindless, the trailer filled with the slick sound of flesh sliding against flesh, their heavy breathing and string of moans and names and curses, and although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Tom could feel his orgasm building, white hot pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach as Chris wrapped a hand around both their cocks and started stroking messily. It was too much after a far too long time and it was all Tom could do to kiss the other again so his broken cry never reached the air when he came, spilling hot seed on both their stomachs.

Chris followed only a couple of moments after, and although Tom couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe anymore, he could still feel the other shuddering and slumping against him. There was a breathless pause and in the back of his mind, Tom noticed that their lips were still pressed together and that he had swallowed Chris’ moans as much as the other had done for him.

Tom relaxed and tensed again, let himself enjoy the closeness for another little while before he pushed himself upright again, pulled away. There was a flash of fear in the other’s eyes, but he only turned them around, marvelling at how easily Chris, although he was twice his size, allowed Tom to press him against the door. A hand flew up and cupped Chris’ cheek, brushed a thumb over his cheekbone before travelling downwards, curling long fingers around the other’s neck. For a second, Tom wanted to tighten them, even if only to see how far Chris would let him go, but he decided against it, let it trail further down, across hard muscles and taut skin, his eyes following, then his body.

It was almost too natural to fall on his knees in front of the other, to nuzzle his thigh before biting it, to dart his tongue out and clean away their mixed seed with quick, short licks. And there was a word pressing against his lips from behind, teasing the tip of his tongue and tingling at the back of his throat until he spoke it out loud, heard it dance and flutter and swell in the air.  
Brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from hiddlesworthorkiprompts.tumblr.com


End file.
